Summary: An unexpected arrival causes trouble in Winterfell.

Gendry

Gendry found that he was eager to battle Arya again even though she had beaten him twice this night already.

The rain hadn't stopped for two days now, mercilessly pounding over the whole North, covering the land in a grey mist. The sky above them thundered, causing the earth to shake, but all of his focus was on the girl in front of him. He knew how she would take him down this time and he fully intended to defeat her. He anticipated her moves and luckily he was right, by moving the opposite way that she had expected Gendry was able to use his weight against her and knock her to the hard ground. She lost Needle as she rolled over panting. He used her brief distraction to his benefit pouncing on top of her stunned body.

Unfortunately she saw him coming and careened out of the way so that he couldn't pin her down. She laughed at his stunned expression as she grabbed Needle and stood resting the cold edge of the metal against the back of his neck. He dropped his sword and sighed.

"I yield."

"That is because you are a terrible swordsman." Arya chuckled removing the blade.

When he stood he was ashamed to note that his legs were trembling. But it wasn't from fatigue though he and Arya had been exercising since after the feast, which was hours ago. He had been pressed, shoved, hit, kicked and his body was exhausted, but he refused to show it. Gendry knew that she had been through all this and possibly worse too; so if she could survive he knew he could.

His gaze sought her out and what he saw had his blood boiling. She had removed her outer clothes some time ago, as she claimed they slowed her down and made her clumsy. The black shirt and pants that she had changed into were soaked through from the rain and clung to her like a second skin. It left nothing about her body to the imagination. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he glanced away, trying not to appreciate the curve of her hips or the slender line of her thighs.

She appeared as delicate as a winter rose yet he knew the deadliness of Arya Stark.

"Gendry," She asked her voice full of uncertainty as she frowned at him. He liked it when she said his name. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He replied, looking at her face and not her body. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You are a really bad liar." She commented before stepping closer to him. He continued to look into those gleaming silver eyes, seeing how her wet plaited hair flattened to her head as it came out of its braid. Water dripped from the blood red Weirwood leaves and onto her face as she came closer still. Soon he could feel her body heat shrouding him in a wash of something he had never felt before; longing.

His father had never been an affectionate man with either of his queens but had shared his lust with plenty of women. Sometimes Gendry wondered how many bastard brothers and sisters he actually had throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He was pleased that he was different, though King Robert Baratheon didn't wish to acknowledge this. Sometimes Gendry had even returned to his chambers to find whores waiting for him. His father's "gift" as Robert liked to call it. Gendry hated it. He hated the fact that his father pushed and pushed, but when he had turned to his King to ask for marriage blessing, Robert had almost dismissed him.

Suddenly a warm hand cupped his jaw and he snapped his eyes back open, not realising that he had closed them and was clenching his fists by his side until he looked into Arya's beautiful face. Her eyes were tender, emotions swimming in the silver depths. Tentatively he reached up and took her hand in his before bringing it to his mouth. She gasped as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on her wrist. He could feel her pulse point pounding under his touch. He wondered if it always raced when he touched her.

She pressed closer until she was directly under him, her head tilted upwards and his was bent down. His arms came around her, gently so gently. Arya was watching him cautiously. She bit her bottom lip with nerves. He smiled at her, reassuring without words that she was going to be alright. Slowly he lowered his face to hers, their breaths mingling. He meant for his mouth to touch hers ever so lightly, a mere brush of lips, but he didn't even get that.

Rather the thundering of horses hooves warned them of riders approaching. Gendry grumbled inwardly before he turned, feeling Arya stiffen in his arms. Instantly he frowned at the man who dismounted a black stallion, his dark cloak pushed back to reveal his features. The boy was a year or two younger than Gendry with cold grey eyes and shoulder length blonde hair. His face was pale and drawn, his cheeks sharp and long. His mouth was a flat line, and Gendry could imagine it sneering with malice. He strode towards them, a fierce determination in his steps as he turned his angered eyes to Gendry. Instantly he pushed Arya behind him, shielding her with his body.

"I don't know who you are boy, but get your hands off of my lady!" He screamed before stopping just before Gendry. When he didn't move nor flinch, the boy unsheathed his long sword, aiming the sharpened tip at Gendry's stomach. He felt Arya reach for Needle at her hips, her hand gripping his tightly. He squeezed back. Gendry said nothing as the pale eyes threatened and seethed, waiting for the boy to finish ranting and threatening.

"Move out of the way now boy." The boy said cruelly, his eyes roaming over Gendry and then over Arya, hardening but also heating. Gendry suddenly felt hot with anger, a rage even. No-one should ever look at her like that, no-one but him. It probably wasn't the best thing that he felt so strongly towards her, unknowing how she felt about him in return, yet he couldn't help it.

He straightened to his full height and turned to the boy in front of him.

"I am Prince Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne and Seven Kingdoms. You will address me by my proper title." At the end Gendry's tone became low and menacing.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise and then inspected Gendry seeing his thick black hair, golden skin and blue eyes that burned. He saw the sigil of the Baratheon stag on Gendry's chest. Suddenly he sank to one knee and the soldiers did too. He bowed his head and Gendry could see him shaking.

"My Prince, I apologise, I had no idea it was you." The boy stammered, seemingly at a loss for words as he absorbed his new lowly position. He then turned his eyes to Arya but this time in disapproval. "My Lady you must bow to the Prince." His words rang of command. A command that she did not heed as Gendry turned to her.

He smiled, rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. She smiled gently upat him, some of her tenseness leaving her locked muscles. Her grip on Needle relaxed as she stepped forward to address the boy in the mud.

"Lord Elmar Waldron Frey what brings you to Winterfell?" She asked him, her tone like steel but he laughed. It wasn't a particularly nice sound. It was one that held smugness, as if he knew something she did not.

"To ask your grandfather Lord Rickard Stark and your father if they have yet given his blessings on our betrothal."


Arya

Arya felt the words like a blow to the stomach.

The air left her body in a whoosh as she felt a wave of betrayal as she studied the man before her. Elmar Frey was a cruel, ambitious boy with a fierce temper to anyone who didn't obey him. The word "betrothal" scared her, knowing that her family had arranged for her to marry such a person. Waves of hurt crashed through her as her heart squeezed painfully.

Gendry turned to look back down on her his blue eyes wide and shocked. She was sure her expression met his as he roamed her face seeing how her tears mingled with the rain. Suddenly his jaw locked and he brought her hand to his lips again moving in a way that Elmar wouldn't see. The press was soft and sweet and it made her ache even more.

Arya had come to feel for Gendry over the past month, his wit and character coming to both irritate and amuse her. She hated the thought of not being able to see him, not being able to feel hot and shivery whenever she was close to him. She didn't want to lose him, not now. She wondered how long her family had had this prepared. She was going to be shipped off, married to the Frey boy and forced to be his lady. Arya didn't know how she managed to stop herself from screaming. She wanted to run away back to Braavos, run and never look back.

Gendry was the one to break the awful silence.

"Since when have you been betrothed to Lady Arya?" His voice was all politeness yet there was a stern demand for an answer. Arya was pleased he had never spoken to her like that.

"For years My Prince, yet it is only now that her grandfather has truly consented." The Frey replied, and she knew he was lying. Surely her Aunt Lyanna wouldn't keep that from her for years. No. She decided a moment later. He was lying.

He got to his feet and came forward, his eyes solely on Arya. Her reflex was to reach for Needle but she knew that Gendry wouldn't allow him to harm her. So instead she tightened her grip on his hand. He returned it, letting her know she was safe. Elmar's coal eyes were dark and heated as they roamed over her body, lingering on certain areas. She felt uncomfortable under his stare and she couldn't help the emotions that flooded her. Finally they landed on her face and she saw anger spark in the depths of those eyes.

"I do hope you do not always look at me like that My Lady, for I fear we shall have a problem." He laughed heartily as though his threat was merely a jest, yet she knew he was now telling the truth. He continued to glare at her and she couldn't form words to reply to him.
"Oh my love, you wound me with your silence. Say something please."

Determined to grasp a control of her fear Arya dropped Gendry's hand and stepped around him, though she ensured that he remained close. She looked up into the Frey's oily eyes and curtsied in the manner that she was taught.

"My Lord." He seemed very pleased and bowed low offering his hand in the dark. She desperately didn't want to take it.

"Arya!" All three of them swung around to see her Aunt Lyanna galloping on her horse. Her eyes were so frightened that Arya felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn't told anyone where she was. They were probably looking for her. Lyanna dismantled gracefully before pulling her into a fierce hug.

"By the Gods we were looking all over for you!" She kissed her forehead and nodded to Gendry, a thank you most likely for keeping her out of trouble. "Your Grace, I-"

"Lady Lyanna it's wonderful to finally meet you." Elmar spoke clearly despite wiping the rain from his eyes. Lyanna's face changed in a matter of seconds as she took him in. Her eyes widened and anxiety replaced her relief.

"Lord Frey, we were not expecting you for another month." The words rang in Arya's ears painfully and again she wondered when her family was going to tell her of her betrothal. She staggered back before feeling strong warm hands on her shoulders steadying her. Gendry's fingers ran along her skin and she felt warm again. For a moment the fear knotting her stomach slackened.

"Yes, I do believe that my betrothed was not informed of the arrangement – judging by her expression." Elmar laughed as Lyanna sighed, her silver eyes filled with grief.

"That is correct, but it has been a busy month here in Winterfell with my lord father being unwell."

"Yes I heard, it is quite unfortunate." He replied, no remorse in his voice to accompany his words. He smiled before continuing. "Yet at least there are celebrations to organise and rejoice." Elmar's eyes flashed to her and Arya saw a heat so strong that she felt burnt. Gendry's large hands tightened their grip on her slender frame though she didn't know why. Had he seen the Frey's lustful glance too?

"Indeed." Arya caught something in her aunt's eyes as she looked between her and Gendry. For a moment it looked like hope. "But first I must take my niece to her chambers; it has been a long night. Perhaps on the morrow you can be introduced properly. I know my father will honour you with a feast." She said taking her from Gendry and making her climb on her horse.

With a longing glance at Gendry who was soaked and shocked, Arya turned the steed back towards Winterfell. Soon enough she heard her aunt coming up beside her. Her anger returned in full force as she glared into eyes so similar to her own.

"Arya, I am so sorry sweetheart. I didn't know he was coming so soon."

"But you knew I'm betrothed to him?!" Arya yelled, needing an answer.

"Yes. I asked Lord Rickard to give you a choice-" Lyanna started but Arya interrupted her.

"You didn't tell me!" She shrieked, kicking her horse to run faster. The steed complied but Lyanna easily kept up.

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to." Her aunt's eyes pleaded. "I was hoping that another suitor would come along Arya, I swear to the Gods." Arya sighed, knowing her aunt was being honest.

"But no one else has come along." She said dejectedly. She wanted to add "and no-one will" but she couldn't make her voice work. Her aunt leaned close to her, a secret smile on her lips.

"That may not be true darling. I'd give it some time, you may be surprised who your admirer is." With that Lyanna rode off, her horse flicking up sodden ground as she sped ahead. Arya slowed her stallion into a slow trot, wondering about Lyanna's words.

Did she mean Gendry?